Murder by Death Page #7

B*tch.

Most interesting.

All had perfect motives

for killing Twain.

Wonder which one

was one who done it.

We still have

the night to get through.

If anyone's going to solve this,

I say we get a good night's sleep.

And I suggest

we all lock our doors.

One of us is a mad killer...

...and not to be trusted.

Who do you think is the murderer?

Must sleep on it.

Will know in morning when wake up.

What if you don't wake up?

Then you did it.

Go sleep, please.

- Good night, Dad.

- Should have adopted pussycat.

Should I turn off the steam, Pop?

Not steam.

Someone just put

deadly snake in room.

Wake me when it come near bed.

I want you to know, Dickie,

if you're the murderer...

...I'll still love you.

It wouldn't be right for us

to make love, but I'd love you.

No fear of that, pet.

Let's see what we have here.

We have one missing, dead,

naked butler...

...one host with

a knife in his back...

...and one scorpion

crawling up our sheets.

- Is that what that is?

- They can kill instantly.

I suggest we don't move.

For how long?

Quite possibly

for the rest of our lives.

Good heavens!

I know who the murderer is.

Solvey-poo?

Yes, Miss Withers.

The murderer is-

Good God! Gas!

I'm sorry. I can't help it.

I'm old.

No, no. The other kind of gas.

The kind that kills.

- Sometimes my gas-

- It's seeping in through the vent!

It's locked from the outside.

Help!

Doesn't smell that bad to me.

Help!

Did I do right, Sam,

telling them about the gay bar?

Perfect. They took the bait like a dumb

halibut. Let them think I'm a pansy.

While they're suspecting me,

one of them will let his pants down.

Why do you keep all those naked

muscle men magazines in your office?

Suspects.

Always looking for suspects.

What's that ticking sound I hear?

"That ticking sound is a bomb

that will go off in 30 seconds.

- Signed, the murderer."

- The door!

"P.S. The door is locked."

I'm sorry about this, Tess.

- Me owing you all that money too.

- That's all right. What will we do?

I got an idea.

I don't know if this will work.

Turn around!

- I'm turned.

- Whatever you do, don't turn back.

- If anything-

- Do as I say.

- I will, Sam.

- Good. Because I think I'm gonna cry.

- What are you doing in my bed?

- There's no place to sleep.

Sleep in the car,

you chauffeur.

Unfair. I will tell everyone

you wear a toupee.

- They already know.

- Why do you wear it?

I didn't know you knew.

Certainly I know.

It's a terrible toupee.

A bomb. Across the hall.

Quickly, the door!

It's locked from the outside.

You look taller to me.

Why is that?

Monsieur, I'm not getting taller.

If you aren't getting taller,

there's one alternative.

The room is getting shorter!

The ceiling is coming down!

- What'll we do?

- I don't know!

But this is exactly how

they make goose liver pate.

Not so fast, please.

Do not cross out Wang name.

Cross out "snake" instead.

Nice shot, Pop. Sure wish you

weren't such a heavy sleeper.

And now...

...if you please.

One million dollars...

...Mr. Bensonmum.

Banzai, Pop!

Very clever of you, Mr. Wang.

Oh, yes.

As you can see, I can see.

So I see.

Tell me, as the only survivor,

how did you deduce it was me?

Went back to theory

seldom used today:

Butler did it.

I hadn't thought of that.

How do you account for

my dead body?

Body made of plastic,

same as plastic cook.

While we examine plastic butler...

...you murder Lionel Twain.

You're a clever little

laundry man, Mr. Wang.

But not quite clever enough!

I'll take that one million dollars,

Bensonmum...

...alias Irving Goldman.

Irving Goldman?

Yes.

Irving Goldman was the attorney

of the late Lionel Twain.

Lionel Twain died five years ago.

His body was discovered

in Goldman's filing cabinet.

Am I correct, Mr. Goldman?

Yeah. Correct, Miss Marbles.

But how did you escape

the poison gas?

Quite simple.

I covered my mouth...

...and let Miss Withers here

breathe in all the gas.

- Sicky-poo.

- Yes, dear, I know.

- The million dollars, please.

- I wouldn't, Goldman.

Or is it Goldman?

Actually, it's Mr. Marvin Metzner.

Marvin Metzner?

Very good, Mr. Charleston.

But how did you know?

The bill in the dead butler's hand

stating the weekend had been catered.

- Only an accountant would keep that.

- Get the money and let's go.

Goldman died

last month while skiing.

He jumped 200 feet

into a low-flying plane.

I can't wait much longer.

You've not lost your touch,

Mr. Charleston.

But how did you elude

the deadly scorpion?

We didn't.

He stung Dora.

- We have 15 minutes to reach a doctor.

- Explain later.

We'll make it. Never fear.

The prize money.

Belongs to me, monsieur.

Marcel, being one of

the world's strongest men...

...stopped your ceiling from crushing

us at four feet, five inches.

It may be months before

we're able to straighten again...

...but a million dollars

will buy a lot of back braces.

Eh, Miss Irene Twain?

Daughter of Lionel!

What?

I prefer to be called Rita.

But how did you know?

Never underestimate

a Frenchman's nostrils, Miss Twain.

At dinner tonight...

...I smelled your Chanel No. 5.

You did away with all of them:

Metzner, Goldman

and your father.

If you had your way...

...you'd do away with all men,

would you not, Miss Twain?

Men who have made you suffer...

...because you were

born with brains...

...talent, money, everything

but that which you most desired:

Beauty.

It is a statement of fact...

...that as a man you are passable,

but as a woman...

...you are a dog.

That's your opinion, big boy.

And now my money, please.

With luck, I can still

make dinner at Maxim's.

I'd just order

a tuna sandwich...

...because that dough is mine.

That's right, I'm alive.

Miss Skeffington

dropped your bomb down the john.

It blew up as she flushed.

The seat missed her head by an inch.

I'm all right, J.J.

J.J.?

That's right, folks.

He outsmarted us all.

Sitting behind that desk

is the real Sam Diamond.

My name is Loomis.

J.J. Loomis. I'm an actor.

I do impressions.

I did the Carson show

six times last year.

Diamond hired me for the weekend.

Miss Skeffington

is Vilma Norman.

She's a cocktail waitress

at the Water Bed Motel in Carmel.

Diamond hated all of you.

You're getting big money, and he

had that office in San Francisco.

If he proved he was number one,

he'd get your clients.

But since I put

all the pieces together...

...I figure that money belongs to me.

Isn't that right, Mr. Diamond?

Wrong.

That would've been so obvious,

a child could have guessed.

No, colleagues.

What you seem to overlook...

...is the most simple

and direct solution.

That I am indeed Lionel Twain.

You've all been so clever

for so long...

...you've forgotten to be humble.

You've tricked and fooled

your readers for years.

You've tortured us with

surprise endings that made no sense.

You've introduced characters at the

end that weren't in the book before!

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